The Young Master

Translator: Cinder Translations

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Early the next morning, Jiang Cheng, still entangled with his bed, was awakened by Fatty. Taking advantage of Jiang Cheng sitting up to clear his head, Xia Meng went back to catch another half-hour of sleep.

By the time the sun had fully risen, the sound of footsteps approaching from a distance could be heard outside the door. Due to the secluded nature of the deep mansion, the footsteps were exceptionally clear.

"Gentlemen," the voice of the woman who had guided them yesterday came from outside, "please come out for breakfast."

When Jiang Cheng stealthily opened the door, the middle-aged woman was indeed standing there. However, her face still bore that lifeless expression, like an extra who had missed out on a boxed meal after working late.

At this moment, Jiang Cheng and the others noticed that the people from the other two rooms had also come out. They were gathered together, looking in their direction and seemingly whispering about something.

This put Jiang Cheng and his companions at ease. They sensed an uneasy atmosphere emanating from their teammates, indicating that they too had heard the eerie singing from the previous night.

It wasn't just their group who had heard it.

This was important.

The middle-aged woman led them along the lake for a distance, where a cobblestone path wound its way to a pavilion situated on the lake's surface.

The pavilion didn't extend far into the lake, only about ten meters from the shore. They had noticed this serene pavilion when they first arrived yesterday.

Inside the pavilion was a wooden square table, adorned with exquisite dishes, drinks, and pastries. Surrounding the table were chairs with backs.

Once everyone was seated, the woman stood about ten meters away on the shore, her unreadable eyes fixed on them, as if she wanted to etch every detail of these people into her memory.

The dishes were delicious, but under such a gaze, how could anyone have the appetite to eat?

Exchanging glances, they took the opportunity during the meal to quietly discuss the events of the previous night.

Indeed, everyone had heard that ethereal singing, but what Fatty hadn't expected was—

"Did you say someone was dancing on the lake?" Zuo Jing spoke up, not bothering to lower her voice, her tone sudden and abrupt.

Whether it was Zuo Jing's sudden tone or the lingering fear from the previous night, Tang Shirou's already pale face turned even whiter, as if drained of blood.

"Y-yes," she stammered, biting her lip. "Last night, after hearing the sound, I got curious and looked outside. T-that's when I saw a figure dancing on the lake."

Recalling the eerie scene, Tang Shirou's tongue trembled.

Fatty instinctively glanced at An Xuan, but found him with his head down, leisurely eating the dishes on his plate, a bowl of steaming soup beside it.

"What did the figure look like?" Xia Meng asked.

"I don't know," Tang Shirou shook her head. "I really don't know. There was fog outside, and I only saw a blurry figure. B-but it must have been a woman."

"The figure... the figure was very thin, extremely thin," she added hastily.

Everyone had heard the singing last night, so they fully understood Tang Shirou's fear. In their glances toward her, there was already a hint of barely perceptible pity.

As a newcomer, her role was essentially over.

Although being the first to see a ghost doesn't necessarily mean being the first to die, the likelihood was high. And based on her description, the story behind this ghost was probably...

"Gentlemen," a ghostly voice suddenly called from not far away. Everyone immediately turned toward the shore, where the middle-aged woman stood, her posture unchanged.

"After your meal, please follow me," her voice was flat and cold. "Steward Zhou is waiting for you. He has some matters to discuss."

After following the middle-aged woman, they walked a considerable distance. About ten minutes later, they stopped in a larger courtyard, which was noticeably more impressive than where they had been staying.

In the courtyard, three people were already waiting.

The leader was a short, middle-aged man with narrow eyes, a hooked nose, a thin mustache, and a long, narrow face—quite distinctive. His attire was significantly more ornate than the others.

The younger woman and the fierce-looking man they had seen yesterday stood behind the middle-aged man.

"This must be Steward Zhou. Pay close attention to his every word and action," Qin Jian, the composed and experienced one, whispered as they were still some distance away.

Just like the day before, the group slowly stood before everyone, their faces devoid of any emotion.

"My surname is Zhou. I am the steward of Master Huang's household. I am responsible for all your accommodations during your stay here," Steward Zhou spoke, his facial muscles stiff, exuding an eerie aura.

Ignoring everyone's reactions, Steward Zhou continued, providing them with an overview of the era and background of their mission.

Chen Qiang wasn't wrong—this was indeed the Song Dynasty.

The master of this mansion was surnamed Huang, a once-famous local tea merchant. After amassing enough wealth, he donated to become a minor official and then retired to live a leisurely life at home.

Known for his kindness and generosity toward the poor, he had earned the title of "Huang the Benevolent," enjoying a good reputation in the area.

But good deeds don't always bring good fortune. Master Huang's only son had developed a rare form of madness. He spent his days in a delirious state, locking himself in the attic and refusing to see anyone. Moreover...

At this point, Steward Zhou suddenly paused, then raised his head, scrutinizing each of them with a strange gaze. Those who met his eyes felt an odd sensation, as if they were being pierced through.

"Did any of you... hear anything strange last night?" Steward Zhou suddenly asked.

"No," An Xuan answered on behalf of the group, nodding slightly and appearing completely natural. "We were all very tired yesterday, so we went to bed early."

Hearing this answer, Steward Zhou's lips curled into a slight smile. His narrowed eyes became even more inscrutable. "Is that so?" he suddenly chuckled. "If we didn't disturb your rest, then that's for the best."

"Steward Zhou, what do you mean?" An Xuan blinked in confusion. "What do you mean by 'disturbing our rest'?"

With his refined appearance, An Xuan was the type who easily gained others' favor, even their trust.

Of course, this only applied to people like Tang Shirou. For someone like Jiang Cheng or Xia Meng, it was useless.

But for some reason, Steward Zhou actually explained: "Since falling ill with madness, the young master has developed a peculiar habit," he said, staring at An Xuan. "He only comes out at night, to sing opera on the lake."

(End of the Chapter)

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